


Bend, But Do Not Break

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Character Development, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smart-mouthed rogue, distrustful of humans, and deeply scarred by his past. His name is Keanan, and he wasn't always this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bend, But Do Not Break

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something for my Inquisitors for ages, but being in college and working takes up literally all of my time. I've been working on this over the course of two weeks, and am willing to risk typos just to finally get back out there. I miss writing because it's an outlet, and quasi-relaxing, but I simply don't have time. Even on weekends. College is soul-sucking, kids.

[[Here's](http://gndrfvck.tumblr.com/post/142888135331/mala-suledin-nadas-now-you-must-endure-keanan) a visual reference of him.]

* * *

 

_All things considered, I was ready._

_I had proven myself weeks before, moving beyond the cumbersome apprenticeship with the presentation of a roe deer pelt to both the Keeper and my mentor. My parents were proud, but fearful still, and I could tell my mother was especially unprepared for my great leap into adulthood. Keeper Istimaethoriel soothed them with high praises of my maturity, though she tended to scold me for the sarcastic comments I often made to the others my own age. Nonetheless, the day had finally come, and I’d start preparing my mind, body, and soul alike for my vallaslin._

_I had only recently turned eighteen, and between my apprenticeship as well as occupying my free time with teaching my younger brother how to hold an arrow without wounding himself, I hadn’t had a lot of time to celebrate. Birthdays among the clan weren’t too widely celebrated, but a few of the clan members I’d known since childhood wanted to see me age up with some festivity. It was more or less an excuse to goof off, but between the extensive training and childrearing we all partook in, any excuse for some downtime was a valuable one._

_We agreed, however, not to celebrate until after I’d gotten my vallaslin. Even though having a bit of fun and acting off was something we all craved, there were limits to how much myself, or any of the other young clan members, wanted to risk the Keeper declaring me unfit still for adulthood. This rite of passage was sacred, and I knew I was ready to undertake it. The rest of the young clan members knew it as well, and I’d be the first in my age group to earn the right to wear the blood writing we all were taught to anticipate from a young age. While some my age were envious, the elders hushed their gripes with the notion that their envy was the reason why they hadn’t yet earned_ their _vallaslin. For the most part, that put things into perspective, and I noticed complaints soon replaced with respect. It was a strange power dynamic, to have earned respect from others my own age, but I was about to embark on the most important journey a young Dalish elf would take in his life._

_The days leading up to the ritual were meant to be purifying to the body and the soul, but the anxieties of anticipation didn’t escape me. I feared that perhaps I would break the silence with cries of pain and need to prove myself yet again, and suffer the embarrassment of being unprepared for adulthood. I feared also, that should the silence be kept, Keeper Istimaethoriel may stop partway through, deciding on her better judgement in cahoots with my parents, I was still unfit for adulthood. I would have no choice but to defer to her choice on the matter, and to think all of my training and all of the time I’d spent in preparation would simply go to waste was disheartening, to say the least._

_When the day finally came, I kissed my mother on the cheek, and pulled back with lips wet by her tears. She laughed, wiped her eyes, and put a hand to my bare cheek, humming an old lullaby as my father looked on with pride, and tears, in his eyes. I was a spitting image of my father, everything from the russet colour of my skin to the chartreuse in my eyes to the deep brunet of my hair. The only trait I’d inherited from my mother happened to be the countless freckles that had been plastered across every bit of my skin; trickling down from my hairline to my bare toes. There was, however, one trait that put me out of place among my family, and that was my height. Standing around six foot two, I towered over both of my parents by a good four inches, and happened to be the tallest member of Clan Lavellan. My mother constantly gushed about what a handsome man I’d grown into, and my father would nod in acknowledgement; both out of pride and love. I considered myself to be lucky, having come from parents who loved not only each other, but both of their children with full hearts._

_Saying a brief farewell to my parents, I met the Keeper in her private quarters on the far side of the camp. She greeted me warmly, yet still collected as could be. I held my thumbs tightly in my fists, and sat where she bade me on the floor, watching as she prepared the ink that would soon mark me with adulthood. She finished her preparations, and knelt in front of me, a soft smile on her lips._

_“Close your eyes, Da’len,” her voice was soft, yet commanding. Nervously, but outwardly composed, I veiled my eyes and braced for the pain. This would not be easy, I knew, but I was ready._

…

Consciousness flowed into my body like a river pillaging through a broken dam. Cold stone bit harshly into my knees, and I blinked back a thick lethargy riddled with a thrumming pain that radiated up my arm. My wrists were shackled in some sort of heavy wooden contraption, and realization dawned on me I was imprisoned. Where I was, however, I couldn’t begin to guess. It stank of mildew and vomit, and a draft whistled in from somewhere nearby. Small torches burned brightly on thick pillars to the left and right of me, and being in what I assumed to be a dungeon, it was unfortunately dark, and wholly decrepit. My left hand ached and burned, as if with some sort of magic perhaps, and it turned it over only for green light to crackle like lightening from my palm. The pain radiated up my arm and straight into my torso, jolting my heart and blurring my vision as it drew a pained gasp from my mouth. My memory served no purpose as to how I got here, or what that blasted mark on my hand was, and panic sunk its teeth into my skin like a feral dog.

In the next instant, a door burst open, and it took me raising my gaze to notice the four guardsmen in full armor pointing their drawn swords at me. Two women appeared in front of me then, causing the guardsmen to sheathe their weapons, and I eyed the women with careful suspicion as one with a stern face and dark hair crept around my backside. The other, who’d been rather standoffish initially, approached me like a cat with its hackles raised, her outfit something out of an assassin’s daydream. I hunched, tense, as the stern female leaned in, her voice cracking with anger and pain.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand to preserve my life. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” She paced away from me, the metal of her armor clanking noisily with each deliberate step. I could feel my pulse quicken beneath my skin, and I wanted to run. In the next moment, she came back around my side, standing above me like an ominous and malevolent being. Waving a finger in my face, her tone dipped into aggressive and accusatory. “Except for you.”

I looked up at her, narrowing my brows, but saying nothing. I had nothing to say to a human who was holding me hostage, on what I presumed to be the principle of my ears and my vallaslin. My clan had been kind to humans, took an interest in their wars because we were harmed by them as well. An interest enough to send me, undercover, to spy on this meeting between the human Templars and mages. I didn’t remember anything, and yet, had I heard right? The conclave was…destroyed?

My lack of an answer was clearly not acceptable, and the woman roughly grabbed my arm, yanking it into my field of view. “Explain. This.” She demanded, and my hand crackled once more. The pain was searing, ripping through the tendons in my hand, and making me feel as though I’d grabbed ahold of one of the torches by its flames. She threw my chained hand back against my thigh, and I grit my teeth in agony.

When the burning subsided, I thought for a moment, trying to force my memory into compliance. It was blank, dark, as if it had been ripped straight from my skull. “I…can’t.” I finally managed to sputter out, genuinely afraid and morbidly confused.

The two paced around my body, as if partaking in cautious steps to an intricate dance. “What do you mean you _can’t_?” The first woman snarled at me, and I shrunk inwards. Her tone was almost tangible, and I felt her words slap me across the face.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.” I couldn’t be any more honest with this womnn. She was demanding answers from me, when I knew nothing!

Again, my answers did not satisfy her need for information I could not give, and she leant down, gripping my shoulders with a formidable strength. She shook me, her brows drawn to a point, and her teeth bared like a gnashing animal. “You’re lying!” I winced, bracing myself for an attack, but the other woman who’d been pacing behind me came to my aid, shoving the dark haired woman off of me. They stumbled back, the cloaked woman bracing against her counterpart’s arm with a single hand until she backed off all on her own.

“We need him, Cassandra,” she said, turning to me as if a single look could give her the answers she and _Cassandra_ required.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!” I managed to snarl through the pain screaming in my palm, as well as the harsh handling Cassandra had bestowed upon me. I just wanted to go back to the clan. I didn’t belong here.

Ignoring my outburst, the other woman, who I could not yet put a name to, turned fully to me, her brows raised in suspicion. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” For as tall as I was, her frame loomed like a shadow, and the air about her sent my senses into overdrive. Dangerous was the only word that came to mind.

Cassandra crept closer, her steps still deliberate and intimidating. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut as vivid pictures flashed behind my eyelids. Truly nightmarish things that plagued my memory played in technicolor, the images engulfing and harrowing all at once. “I remember running. _Things_ were chasing me, and then…” my words trailed off, and I opened my eyes, looking at the two above me. “…a woman?”

“A woman?” The shadowy female crossed her arms along her chest, looking down at me.

I closed my eyes again, forcing my memory to cooperate as I became more conscious, more aware. “She reached out to me, but then…” I sighed, drawing a blank as the fatigue set in. Perhaps a bit of shock as well.

Cassandra backed the other woman towards the door at this, gesturing out. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.” Leliana eyed me with the same suspicion that Cassandra wore, before nodding and disappearing outside.

Cassandra returned to me, removing the heavy shackle but binding my hands once more. “What _did_ happen?” I asked, feeling as though they were starting to believe I didn’t actually have the answers rather than I was lying to save my own skin.

Taking my arm, Cassandra drew me to my feet, looking unsure. “It…will be easier to show you.”

…

_A year after I’d earned my vallaslin, the clan had up and moved to a new area north of the human city-state of Starkhaven. We’d nestled ourselves in the thick forests, far enough away from the humans that they wouldn’t bother with us, yet still close enough that if we needed to trade a few hunters could be sent to seek out willing participants. Things were relatively peaceful, and I had been settling into my position as a hunter quite nicely. I didn’t have a whole lot of down time any longer, but I didn’t mind. Keeping busy kept me happy, and it allowed me to appreciate the down time I did have._

_To be honest, I didn’t really use my down time as productively as I could have. I had studies I could engage in, or I could help the younger ones with their studies, but instead I always wandered off into the forest. Away from the camp and the rest of the clan, I had headspace. I had the solitude of my thoughts, the sunlight on my face, the sounds of songbirds to lull me into a state of pure content. I was known for heading off into the greenery all by my lonesome, but nobody really questioned it. And for that, I was grateful._

_On a particular day during the spring season, the weather was unseasonably warm, and I had wandered into the forest to occupy my time with a nap. The thick grasses had already grown back in from a difficult winter, and the ground was soft but not soggy. The air in the forest was so clean I could all but feel it remove all impurities from within my body, and nowhere else in the world did I find such a strong sense of belonging. Nowhere else in the world could I find a sense of pure, unadulterated peace like this, where my head freed itself of every grappling worry clinging to my thoughts. Maybe I wasn’t doing anything productive, but finding a connection to the earth with sheer tranquility was a gift I would not squander. Few of the others understood how I could wander between the trees, sit and just_ be _, but I didn’t need them to understand my motivations. Perhaps one day they’d come into it themselves and truly understand the worth of a moment to breathe._

_Finding a spot bathed in warm afternoon sunlight, I sunk to the ground haphazardly, hitting the cushioned earth with a gentle thud. The grasses molded around my shape, and I leant back against the thin trunk of a young sapling having been growing there for only a handful of years, at my best estimate. Veiling my eyes, I let the sun warm my face, watching as shades of reds and oranges danced in front of my eyelids. The forest played a gentle melody, the soft whispers of a warm, lazy breeze, and the coos of birds as they fluttered above me in the branches._

_Having been trained as a hunter, and having inherited the bigger ‘razor’s edge’ ears from my father, it wasn’t surprising my sense of hearing was fairly astute. The tips of my ears perked at the sounds of little feet rustling through the grass, and the stifled giggle that followed. I knew who was coming my way, and I feigned sleep as the rustling drew near._

_Listening in, I waited patiently for whatever attack was about to be sprung upon me. The forest fell quiet for just a moment, and the silence was broken soon after by a pair of tiny hands covering my closed eyes from behind the tree. “Guess who!” A small, shrill voice giggled, pulling my lips up at the corners to a warm grin._

_“Uh, is it Eyal?” Eyal, my best friend and the clan’s strongest warrior. He was one of the most diplomatic souls I’d ever met, but his sense of humor was unmatched._

_“Nope! Try again!”_

_“How about Vikram?” Vikram, Eyal’s twin brother, was one of my hunting partners and also a best friend, who was quick as you please with dual daggers. I’d never seen such a lanky boy with such quick fingers, a shadow in the daylight, and as sarcastic as I tended to be. It was really no wonder we got along so well._

_“Nuh uh! You’re bad at this!”_

_“Oh, I know!” I feigned surprise, reaching behind me and grabbing for a stout midsection, and swinging my younger brother’s small body around the tree until he’d dropped clumsily into my lap. “It’s my brat of a little brother!” I cooed to him in a shrill voice, tickling his sides until he was red from his shrieking giggles._

_I didn’t stop until he batted my hands away, still giggling like a fool. “You’re a brat!” He retorted weakly once he could breathe, making me erupt into laughter._

_I wrapped my arms around the boy, hugging him to my chest. He giggled still, softer now, as his tiny arms wound around my neck; his mahogany skin still slightly chubby from lingering baby fat. “I’m too old to be a brat. There are different words when you’re an adult,” I chuckled, nuzzling the soft blond curls bouncing on his head._

_Anywll was an accident on my parent’s behalf. They’d intended to rear only one child, myself, but a romantic evening while I was away on hunt during my apprenticeship conceived my beloved little brother. He was just barely six years old, and one of the most vibrant little elves this world had ever been lucky to have brought into it. There was nearly fourteen years difference between my brother and I, but I didn’t care. I loved every ounce of this little one. He was a beautiful baby, and had since been growing into himself very boyishly._

_While I was definitely my father’s son, Anywll was a perfect mix of both of my parents. He had my mother’s blond hair that bound to itself in tight ringlets, but he had mine and my father’s chartreuse eyes and russet skin. My mother gave him his nose and his pouty mouth, but he had the razor’s edge ears all males in my family had. Anywll had let his curls grow for six years of his life, yet sported a very adult cut that all the elders cooed over. Atop the middle of his head, the curls were bound into a pony tail that hung halfway down the back of his skull, while the rest of his head was shaved close to the skin. What I loved most about his hair, however, was the fact it was a testament to his love for me. I’d been sporting the same long brunet locks with the faintest whisper of my mother’s curls, a single shaved side, and a braid on the left portion of my head since before Anywll was born, and once he could make his own decisions about his hair, he wanted something similar, yet completely, different from my style._

_I don’t know how it happened, but I’d gone from despising this wriggly little boy to loving him more than I ever imagined I could love another being. When I was thirteen going on fourteen and my mother introduced me to the small, wailing infant she’d just brought into the world, I remember crying myself to sleep in my father’s lap thinking my parents sought to replace me. I had grown up being told I would never have any siblings, and suddenly, part way into my adolescence, I had a baby brother; which, goes without saying, was shocking to me. It took my parents six months to convince me they hadn’t had another child to replace me as I carried out my apprenticeship, but once they had truly convinced me, I let myself stop hating Anywll on principle._

_The first time I realized I’d loved him was back when he wasn’t yet a year old, but he was a babbling, giggly, chubby little ball of life. Anywll rarely cried, save for times he was cold, wet, or hungry, and he was always looking for ways to make himself laugh. I’d never known a happier baby, and I thought, considering he was blood, I may as well attempt to interact with this drooling, giggling infant. My mother was sewing clothes for the baby while he sat propped up against her calf, reaching for dust motes and butterflies as they pranced above his head. This would be the first time I’d really interacted with my little brother, and at the time, I was fearful. Still just a dumb teenager, I had no idea how to handle a baby, let alone how to communicate with one that had minimal verbal skills._

_Squatting in front of him, I looked to my mother for guidance, and the warmth in her face as her sons interacted for the first time is a picture I’ll carry with me to the grave. She looked down at Anywll, brushing her thick mane of blonde curls from her perspiring face, smiling as she gathered his attention and directed it towards me. “Anywll, this is your big brother, Keanan. Say hi, little one.”_

_I watched Anywll, just as he watched me, and the way his lower lip quivered made me fear he was about to burst into tears. Instead, he broke into the biggest toothless grin, and grabbed for my face. His tiny, sticky hands squeezed at my cheeks, and he gurgled out, “Ke!” in lieu of my full name, which he wouldn’t be able to properly pronounce until he turned four. Nonetheless, I felt the ice around my heart shatter in that moment, and could remember the sobs that bubbled messily out of me as I hugged the little baby that had just won me over. I swore to him that I’d take every action to protect him for as long as we both lived, and that I was sorry for being such a bad older brother. Funny how to this day, my mother still teases me about being a “bad older brother.”_

_Lost in my own memories, I didn’t notice Anywll trying to grab my attention until he had pulled away from my embrace and lightly swatted at my cheek with his palm. “Ke, I wanna know something.” He said, almost impatiently._

_I placed my hand over his smaller one upon my cheek, holding him there to signify he had my full attention. “And what’s that, little brother?”_

_“When am I gonna get the vale…villa…val…” He frowned, and brought his other hand up to trace the thick lines across my forehead. “This.”_

_“Vallaslin?” Anywll nodded, tracing the intricate pattern etched beneath my skin with his finger. “Well, most elves get theirs when they turn eighteen or so.”_

_“That’s so many! I only have six!”_

_I laughed, letting my brother’s hand go so I could cradle him in my lap. “Well, in three more years, you’ll be halfway there. Getting your vallaslin is a mark of adulthood for elves like us. You have a long way to go until then, little one. You haven’t even started your apprenticeship.”_

_“Ew.” Anywll wrinkled up his face as if he’d caught wind of a halla’s rump. “What does it mean though?”_

_“My vallaslin? It is the tribute to June, the Master of Crafts. Have you been taught about the pantheon yet?”_

_“He taught us to make bows!”_

_“Well, he didn’t teach our clan or you and I personally, but yes, June taught the ancient elves to make bows, arrows, and knives to hunt Andruil’s gifts.”_

_“What’s my vallaslin gonna be, Ke?”_

_“I don’t know, little brother,” I hummed, rocking his small frame in my arms. “Perhaps one day you will wear Mythal’s vallaslin. But until then, you’ll be my baby faced little brother!” I leant down, blowing wet raspberries on Anywll’s chubby cheeks; filling the forest with the sound of his giddy laughter._

…

Cassandra led me from the bowels of a human chantry to a thick wooden door with a brisk draft whistling against it, guardsmen at my heels as I followed dutifully behind. I practiced the clan’s learned code of ethics when dealing with humans, taking on the role of some elven paltry boy; head low, eyes cast to my feet, don’t look the humans in the eye, soft expression, neutral posture, don’t challenge, don’t flee, don’t wince, just follow orders. Why they thought I, a single elf, hands bound and weaponless, would take down the handful of them I didn’t know, but the anxiety of dealing with humans was a lingering trauma. Whiplash of past horrors came roaring out, like setting a caged animal free, and my stomach soured and curled.

A guard in closest proximity to the door opened it as Cassandra approached, letting the frigid gusts pour in as bright light reflected off of the stone tiles of the chantry floor. Shivering slightly while the wind tore through the weak mercenary armor the clan had given me as a disguise, I let my eyes roam over the small town dusted with flurries. Chimneys coughed thick smoke from fires burning within, and I toddled awkwardly into the snow as my bound hands filled me with uncertainty. Pebbles and ice crunched loudly beneath my boots, but the cutting wind had nothing on the unforgiving eyes of the guard still at the door boring into my backside.

Exiting the chantry fully, I couldn’t help but wince and shield my face, stumbling awkwardly to the side. I’d been in the dark so long my eyes were having trouble adjusting to the sudden onslaught of light, but something about this light was abnormally bright. Too bright, in fact, as it dug into my pupils as daggers dig into soft flesh.

When I blinked back the tears springing up, I felt my eyes gravitate up towards the sky. My heart jumped into my throat, cutting off the choked gasp that rose to my lips.

Thick tendrils of black cloud swirled in a vortex, darkening the world as the shadows of great mountains loomed like angry guardians in the distance. Above the mountains was the coup de grâce of a warring world, a _hole_ in the sky thrumming with the same green crackles of lightening that had erupted from my palm before. Thick slabs of stone hoovered, caught in the current of the green menace, in the sky. I couldn’t believe what I saw, even standing here. I thought it to be a figment of my imagination, the lasting, hallucinogenic effects of herbs and roots used to torture me for information. I must be insane. Nothing so heinous could be real.

“We call it “The Breach.”” Cassandra broke through my awe like a fist through a mirror. Her tone was lacking the angry, accusatory edge it once held, instead being replaced with something akin to melancholy. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” I looked to her, somehow tearing my eyes from The Breach, and noticing her body language change from statuesque to fearless warrior as she turned towards me. “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

I was somewhere between mystified and mortified. “An explosion can do that?”

Cassandra took a few sure steps toward me, nodding sternly. “This one did. Unless we act, The Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

…

_Not long after I reached my twenty first birthday, my brother had turned eight years old. He hadn’t yet bore any signs of magical ability, which my parents and I were immensely thankful for. Our clan already had a designated First, and the mere thought of the Keeper sending Anywll away broke all of our hearts._

_Over the past couple of years, Anywll had been growing at a rapid pace, both in physical and mental ability. He was already over four and a half feet tall, built with the standard lithe frames most elves had, but possessed a dry wit and cunning like no other child his age. He had since put down the bow and arrow, though didn’t turn down an opportunity for a bit of target practice with me. I’d taught him how to shoot an apple down from a tree branch, and he was surprisingly proficient in a trade I knew he didn’t wish to pursue._

_Moreover, Anywll had picked up the Vir Tanadhal faster than even I ever had, and his ability to just absorb information and_ know _it was something almost fearsome. He didn’t appear to be much of a forward threat on the outside, but he was definitely growing into a force to be reckoned with._

_At eight, he still had the same hair style he had at six, save for the increased length of the blond ringlets that now hung to his shoulders; bound with a band I had fashioned for him out of the thick tendrils of an arbor blessing and some loose twine I’d had laying around after a trade with a human merchant. On most people, that adornment would have been nothing short of gaudy, but on Anywll it was fitting. He truly found himself at home in the dirt and the sticks, often clad in nothing but the unmistakably Dalish armor given to him as a gift when he established himself as a dedicated warrior._

_Watching my little brother, still about a foot and a half short of my height, wield an ironbark sword nearly half his length and easily double his weight was comical to me. It was something of a fond reminder to how large my hunting bow had felt the first time I strung it over my shoulders as I prowled the woods in attempts to take down some game for the clan’s next meal. Secretly, I had hoped my brother would be a roguish character like myself, but a diplomatic disposition suited him all the better. I could tell by the gleam in his eyes when he parried his mentor, the other warriors in training, and even the dummies, that he was bound to swear his life to protecting those he loved. True, he still had much to learn as he had yet to undertake the more complex trappings of his apprenticeship, but he was showing promise._

_I suppose that promising potential was the reason my parents decided to bring him along when they ventured towards the human city to trade for materials to make clothing and weapons. At the time, I thought nothing of it. In fact, I was happy to see them bring Anywll along as he had always been told by my mother, “maybe when you’re older.” At his age, I was told the same thing, and I could recall with almost perfect clarity the excitement I felt when my parents finally allowed me to go with them. I could tell just by his body language that Anywll was full of pride he was finally old enough and mature enough to undertake the delicate process of trade with humans, and when my parents weren’t looking, I slipped him a few coppers I’d been keeping safe for this occasion. The clan only used human currency for trade, and it was no surprise the coins were of little value to other elves; regardless of whether they understood the monetary value or not._

_Anywll looked at me in confusion when I placed the rust coloured coins in his calloused palm. “Ke, what is this?” He asked, cocking a brow as he turned the coppers over in his small hands. “They’re cold and kinda heavy.”_

_“They’re called coppers or bits, little brother,” I explained, taking his hand and folding his fingers gingerly over the coins so he wouldn’t drop them. “Humans use them as currency. Where you or I may exchange a pelt for, say, a quiver of arrows, humans use these coins to exchange for goods they want.”_

_“Why are you giving me them? I don’t need human money if I can’t use it in the clan.”_

_I couldn’t help myself, and I laughed softly at my brother’s innocence. Task him with vomiting up knowledge about the ancient elves and he could easily empty the contents of his brain like an infant with rashvine sickness, but when it came to humans, he had so much yet to learn. “No, silly, I gave these to you so you can buy something from the merchant. That little redhead you like, what’s her name? Eibhlin? I heard from her parents that she’s quite the bookish little thing. Human books are interesting, and I’m sure she’d appreciate one more so than the dry learning material they force upon you.”_

_Anywll’s face, even through his russet complex, tinged a few shades darker, and he clenched his fist around the coppers. His blond brows drew in, curling his face into a somewhat sour expression. He cleared his throat, pitifully attempting to brush off the obvious embarrassment I’d brought up in him. “I don’t like her!” He countered, turning darker. “She’s just really cool and funny and I like being her_ friend _, Ke.”_

_I chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair, only for him to bat my hand away with a playful indignation. “Sure,” I nodded, crossing my arms smugly over my chest. “Just don’t let mom and dad see. They’ll arrange your marriage!”_

_Anywll swatted my legs before sprinting away as he tried to cover his face, but I caught the blush spreading up to the tips of his pointed ears._

…

I stared up at The Breach, watching its menacing presence as it spat out green orbs that plummeted to the earth like an echoing paroxysm, leaving thick black trails of smoke in their wake. It gurgled and shook the ground, causing both Cassandra and I to stumble as if we stood on the unsure legs of a newborn halla. I looked to her with concern drawing my brows to a crease above my nose, fearful of what might happen.

My concern was long lived as lightening in a blindingly bright green crackled up the center of the vortex, and the spark soon found its way into the palm of my hand.

The physical pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I’d taken arrows to more parts of my body than I could count on one hand, but even the archers who’d tipped their weapons in poison could do little harm to me in the face of…whatever was happening to me now. Every bit of air in my lungs deflated with a cry of pain I hadn’t remembered initiating, and with my palms towards the sky, I fell to my knees in a submissive heap of limbs and exhaustion. Drool hung in a thick, translucent strand from my lower lip as I panted, the back of my tongue tanged by the metallic burn of blood as my nasal capillaries burst at the force of my shout. My vison had somehow managed to turn both white and black simultaneously, stealing any hope I had of fighting the creeping feeling of death that dug into my spine. The electricity danced up every nodule, every pointed disc, spreading through my body with every hammering heartbeat that throbbed in my ears, and pulling relentlessly at every tendon, muscle, and bone.

I clenched my fist around the light crackling from it, the crackling dying to a heated sizzling with my smothering grip, attempting to fold in on myself as I sat like a petulant child on the cold ground. Small stones dug into my knees through the fabric of my sorry excuse for armor, but the pain in my hand easily quelled any attention I could possibly give to such a minor annoyance.

Cassandra dropped to a knee, kneeling in front of me, her face tinged around the edges with concern. “Each time The Breach expands, your mark spreads…” She hesitated for just a moment, drawing her eyes away from me. “…and it _is_ killing you.” Thankfully, the light dissipated from my palm, a white hot stinging remained in its stead, but it had died down significantly from the initial shock to a tolerable burn. I looked to Cassandra, wishing I was anywhere but here. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

I wanted to be civil, but the pain and fear that coursed through my body didn’t allow me much ability to bite my tongue. I had experienced so much loss because of humans, and here I was, yet again, suffering at their behest. I should never have been at that damn conclave in the first place, but at this point, I thought I had little to lose. It turns out, humans, without fail, could always take more for those who thought they truly had nothing left. “So I really don’t have a choice about this.” I managed through teeth gritted against the breathlessness and searing pain.

“ _None_ of us has a choice.” She retorted, standing and harshly yanking me to my feet. I stumbled across the uneven ground, looking to her with disdain. Mutual displeasure sparked between us, and she led me forward through the human settlement. I felt every eye of every human on me in that moment, like the scornful glare of the Keeper when I was a small child.

Anxiety like I had never felt sunk deep into the pit of my stomach, jarring me so harshly my feet became unnavigable obstacles. “They have decided your guilt. They need it.” Cassandra said, pulling me along like an impatient mother with an unruly child. Her words did little to quell my worry, and bile crept up my throat. “The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers.”

Guiding me out of the village, Haven, as it was, Cassandra no longer supported me. We headed down a narrow path toward the mountains, the air somehow colder as it rattled the trees and sent flurries of snow through intricate ballets above my head. “It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars,” She continued as we walked, slowly, to a destination I had no inkling about. “She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” Another gate was opened by a similar looking guardsman, and Cassandra and I stepped onto a large bridge littered with soldiers and civilians alike. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until The Breach is sealed.”

Cassandra put a gloved hand to my arm, stopping me in place. My heart seemed to stop for a moment as she drew a knife, but in the next instant she turned towards me, I felt somewhat less threatened. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” Roughly yanking my bound hands up, Cassandra sliced through the rope imprisoning my hands, freeing me enough that I felt like I had gained some semblance of autonomy. “Come. It is not far.”

I moved my hands, bringing the left palm up to examine it closer as my wrists gained normal mobility. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded, having more than enough of my share of the human’s treatment. I wanted to go _home_.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than The Breach.”

 

…

_The metallic scent of split blood hung like a lifeless curtain above my head, filling my skull with cotton that suffocated any thought processes that were not fueled by my drive to protect, to save. My legs screamed with a scorching opposition, my lungs heaving so harshly it wracked my ribcage enough I felt as though I may collapse, but I easily ignored every complaint from my body. I’d trained, extensively, for years to master the art of fleeing from danger or to engage in the great chase while on a hunt, and I called on that discipline to shirk the boundaries of what my body was capable of._

_The news had reached the camp too late. It came by bloodied cry that startled the birds from the trees, spooking the halla enough that they took off into the brush, and stopping every elf in their tracks. About five miles out from the clan’s camp was where my family and a couple others had meandered to trade, and the wind carried the sound that distance like a warning, and a plea for help. I hadn’t even realized I was running until my lungs began to demand more breath, beads of sweat cascading down my temples like an arrow cutting through a silent, still evening. Faster and faster I ran as the miles between the rest of the clan and I fell away; and I barely acknowledged the shouts of Eyal and Vikram bouncing off the lush green whizzing by my head._

_I readied my bow and drew an arrow from the quiver as I broke through the brush, eyes targeting the first of my victims. A tall man, well over six feet and easily double my weight in clanking armor, brandished a mace across the scalp of one of my clan members; dropping her thin frame to the ground with a meaty thud. She fell, lifeless, into the grass, staining the green in wet crimson. I shouted in agony of the sight, and thoughtlessly, unapologetically put the tip of my arrow between the man’s eyes. He fell against the ground in a groaning heap of flesh, and before his brunet hair had begun to matte with blood, another arrow had been readied and drawn._

_I tried not to look at the corpses littered among the ground, propelling myself to take the lives of the humans in a blind fit of anguish. One by one, lumbering men armed to the teeth with weapons and plate mail fell to a steady arrow through the cranium, the midday sun reflecting off of iron and blood._

_They managed to get the upper hand on me once. A stocky redhead swiped the edge of his morning star across my face; digging the metal spikes into the flat of my nose, as well as through both my upper and lower lip. Pain, overtaken by the emotional distress my body succumbed to, was left unacknowledged, and I only fought harder._

_I had no sense of time nor my surrounding as I killed the humans indiscriminately, and in doing so, nearly went into shock as Eyal’s strong arms gripped around my waist while Vikram plucked my bow from my grip. I flailed, kicking and shouting curses at them as Eyal tried, with a great lack of success, to quell my emotional overflow._

_He eventually ended up falling to the ground as I scrambled from his loosened grip, only to be caught by Vikram’s iron hold. His fingers dug into my arms, shaking me slightly as I watched his mouth bend around words that fell on deaf ears. My ears rung with a hollow singing, and I blinked once, twice, three times. All at once, the world seemed to stop, shatter, and continue on at a faster pace as I stood motionless and dazed. My legs gave out from beneath my weight, and I collapsed helplessly into the grass as I passed through Vikram’s hold like water; retching violently between sobs that wracked my whole frame._

_Eyal knelt down, protectively wrapping an arm around my head, and cradling me to his chest. I could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage, his breathing erratic and choked by his own messy sobs. Vikram squatted to our level, wrapping his lanky arms around both Eyal and I; his massive chest shaking as we sobbed in unison._

_I hadn’t remembered losing consciousness, but when I awoke, I was in the healer’s hut. I tried to sit up, but a strong hand pushed me back into the cot. In feeble effort, I looked up to see the Keeper, her face stained with tears as she attempted, unsuccessfully, to muster a smile. The healer was mixing a poultice in the corner of the hut, which she began applying to thick strips of cloth._

_“Ir abelas, da’len.” The Keeper murmured to me, shaking her head sadly. “There were no survivors.”_

_My lips tried to bend around something, anything, but the only thing I could manage was a breathless, “oh.” My body ached with exhaustion, and I told myself this was all a bad dream. I had ingested some rotten elfroot and was hallucinating. In the morning, I’d wake up, kiss my mother’s cheek, hug my father, and carry my little brother on my shoulders as we traipsed the woodlands. This couldn’t be real. It simply couldn’t._

_The Keeper sighed, as if she knew my thoughts, and shook her head. “Rest. You are injured. You fought bravely, and no matter what, the clan loves you. You are one of the People, da’len. You have a place here.” Her words were well meaning, but they bounced off of my surface like skipping stones against the glassy surface of a lake. If I didn’t take her word, things could be different. Something had to give._

_She ducked easily out of the hut then, and the healer turned to me with a set mouth, her eyes glimmering with smothered tears. She applied the thick strips of cloth across my nose and down across my mouth, and when I opened my mouth to argue, she hushed me. “Hush,” she said in a gentle, wounded voice. “You have a deep gash in your lip. Close your eyes, sleep, and heal.”_

_I felt weak, and nodding, somehow lapsed into a restless sleep. Pictures of my brother, his blond curls tainted and matted with an unholy crimson flashed behind my eyelids, and the first of many nightmares took a toll on my body that night._

…

Cassandra and I made our way along a path, heading into the valley towards who knows where. Lightening continued to crackle from The Breach, and each time it sent shockwaves into my body. The initial few were tolerable, causing me only to trip, but one large crackle brought me to my knees once more with a whole body collapse. I fell helplessly to the ground, crying in agony as my palm singed and frayed every nerve ending to painful rawness. The pain saturated my body as if I were marinating in fire, setting my will ablaze.

Kneeling down to me, Cassandra lifted my weak body from the ground, patting my arm reassuringly as I managed to stand on my feet once more. “The pulses are coming faster now.” She reiterated, sighing. I heaved a breath, catching my wind again as Cassandra watched me with careful scrutiny. “The larger The Breach grows, the more rifts appear, and the more demons we face.”

“How did I survive the blast?” I asked, still drawing blanks on my arrival from point a to point b; point b ending with green lightening erupting from my palm and slowly killing me like a poison I couldn’t draw out.

“They said you…stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

I wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but it was all I had at the moment. Nodding compliantly, I continued down the path to yet another gate; this time, its doors open. Another bridge lay before us, littered with people. Cassandra was close on my heels, and we made our way onto the bridge to head further into the valley.

Nearing the opposite end of the bridge, a stray discharge from The Breach came down like trebuchet fire, collapsing the bridge as if it were a thin branch under the crushing weight of heavy snowfall. I fell into the rubble, tumbling down a rocky slope with stone debris, and landing on the surface of a frozen river. The air rushed into my lungs as I forced myself to sit up, catching eye with what appeared to be a fireball thrown by a very powerful mage; save for its menacingly green hue.

In an instant, both Cassandra and I were on our feet, watching skeptically as sharp shards and fire bore a demon that howled threateningly. Cassandra, sword readied and shield up, engaged without hesitation. “Stay behind me!” She commanded, lurching forward to combat the demon.

I may have been content to do so, but the ground before me began to bubble, deep rumbling erupting from beneath the ice and green hues. I looked around, bracing myself, and preparing to fight with my bare hands. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and something caught my eye.

Amidst the rubble and debris, a hastily crafted bow lay, untouched. Unwilling to sit on the sidelines and fall to a demon, I gathered up the bow in my arms, feeling the familiar and comfortable resistance as I drew an arrow to the ready.

 _Not this time,_ I thought, aiming the arrowhead at the demon, _I will not lose again._  

 

 

 


End file.
